


of nature and nurture

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Baby Jon makes a cameo but he's a baby how much of an active character can he be, Gen, It makes them feel better about themselves, Lyanna Stark/Bad Decisions is a NOTP that is unfortunately canon, Lyanna and Rhaegar can respect each other's talent for bad decision making, Moral Ambiguity, Remorse, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 10:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13362366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: She loved them, she still does. A part of her heart will always belong to the North, like frosty flowers growing and spreading over the glass, it will always stay with her, written on the very face of her being and therefore she will never leave it. Just like the pieces of her brothers accompany her along the way. She can see Brandon's wild spirit mirror itself in ser Arthur Dayne and when his mouth arches into that reckless grin of his, her heart thuds painfully against her chest, like it wants to fly out and catch something out on the horizon.She loves it when ser Arthur smiles, because she will never see Bran do it anymore now. Her brother, wild, young and dead. It makes her long for the comforting darkness as well, something in her broken and tired. Her wolf blood stops running hot, her heart turns to ice and she doesn't complain when Rhaegar halts the journey at the Tower of Joy until their child is born.





	of nature and nurture

     She doesn't love him. Not like a lover, not like she should, even though she tries to. It would be easy, she knows, to love him.  
He's exactly what she wanted out of a husband. He is a gentle creature, none of the agression she is so used to in men. He never shouts or rages, takes every setback with a grace of a man used to not being able to give anything away.  
    She's not on idiot. She knows he doesn't love her; she knew that when he laid the crown of winter roses in her lap and she knew it when she sneaked out off her tent in starlight, and rode off to their arranged meeting point with roses in her hair.  
    She still remembers it clearly, even as everything she used to know begins to fade into memories, the feel of the the wind on her face, the horse beneath her, the thudding of her heart, the moonlight in his long silver hair as he gave her his hand to help her dismount. The words they said into the night air, just them, the moonlight and white-cloaked shadows.  
    It was the beginning of the end, but she didn't care. She took his hand and when she kissed him, he tasted like freedom.  
As the cold of winter slowly melted away into the heat of the Dornish sun, she wondered about her brothers, about the North. But she chose her path, and cemented it with a child growing inside her. Lyanna Stark would be a mute slave to family and society no more. Or so she thought. But the truth is, Lyanna Stark was, and is, a fool.  
    She loved them, she still does. A part of her heart will always belong to the North, like frosty flowers growing and spreading over the glass, it will always stay with her, written on the very face of her being and therefore she will never leave it. Just like the pieces of her brothers accompany her along the way. She can see Brandon's wild spirit mirror itself in ser Arthur Dayne and when his mouth arches into that reckless grin of his, her heart thuds painfully against her chest, like it wants to fly out and catch something out on the horizon.  
    She loves it when ser Arthur smiles, because she will never see Bran do it anymore now. Her brother, wild, young and dead. It makes her long for the comforting darkness as well, something in her broken and tired. Her wolf blood stops running hot, her heart turns to ice and she doesn't complain when Rhaegar halts the journey at the Tower of Joy until their child is born.  
    »What if it's a son?« She asks one day when they are sitting on the balcony, observing the sky with five feet of space between them, both of them remembering the glittering moonlight on the day they ran and trying not to choke on regret. Conversation helps, she finds.  
    »Then it's a son.« He says in that quiet, unearthly balanced way of his. She used to find him otherwordly, a song made flesh, but she has long since learned better. He is just as human as the rest of them. »The dragon must have three heads, and a dragon's gender is as fickle as the flame.«  
     She feels amusement to spike through her, at the same time dread settles in her stomach. She settles her hands on the slight swell of her stomach.  
     »If my child starts changing genders, I know who to blame because it definitely didn't get that from me.« She warns him, not willing to tear her eyes from the blackness above. She wonders, if the stars worry about the future. She guesses not.  
     She doesn't remember what he answered, just the sense of peace she felt that night.  
     It's all terribly ironic, and she is sure that somewhere in the frozen chill of the North, her Gods are laughing at her with their bloody smiles, that even though she does not love Rhaegar, she grew to care for him beyond the feelings of infatuation she condemed the majority of female population of Westeros for having.  
     She doesn't love him like a lover should, and she is aware he doesn't love her, but she understands him, at his core. He is not a selfless person, nor a selfish one. He is simply a directionless child of an insane father, and suffering mother, raised with the knowledge that the prophecy, and his existence, were the reason for all the pain and death that befell the Targaryens.  
      Like her, he is running, trying to escape the dawning realisation that the prophecy doesn't matter, and all that suffering was purposeless, that his mission is a sham.  
      Perhaps she pities him and perhaps he pities her, a girl trying to escape the future the world gave itself the right to write up for her. She doesn't presume to know what he is thinking.  
      It would be so easy to love him, that she almost considers it, but in the end, it would be pointless and forced, like a leash around a she-wolf's neck. She rather remains free, with one her gentle pale hands held before her eyes to prevent the illusion from breaking,  
      It's too late now. Her family is dead, Rhaegar paid for his miscalculations with his life, and soon, so will she. It's terribly tardy for a redemption and regret, so she doesn't try it.  
      Her son looks like her, and she is grateful for it, even as guilt turns her insides to mush. Or maybe that is the fever. Maybe she is already burning her penance. At least, she knows, in that she won't be alone.  
      Her legs have long since given out, and staring out of the window in hope for a gust of cool wind is as much of a dream as breathing in Winterfell's familiar odor, feeling safe and regretless.  
       »Whose fault that is?« Brandon say, sitting at the base of her bed. He has snowflakes in his hair, and his smile makes her throat constrict painfully.  
       She doesn't reply, keeping her eyes on the ceiling, counting the cracks and imperfections. She wants him to go away.  
Brandon rolls his eyes. »Come on Lya. You should at least be big enough to admit you were at fault.« She presses her mouth shut and says nothing. Somewhere in the backgroud, her son is crying the the arms of the wetnurse.  
       »Fine, be that way. Perhaps if you'll ignore us long enough, you'll be able to pretend you're not a Stark, and isn't that just what you always wanted? To be rid of us?«  
       The knot in her chest tightens and she breaks her gaze of the ceiling.  
     »That isn't true.« She tries to say but the words get stuck in her chest, making it rattle with every breath. She wonders how many more apologies can she eat, before her lungs become too heavy. Or is guilt the boulder sitting on her chest now, making each breath feel like a battle?  
       She wonders if that is what Rhaegar felt like, when Robert's war hammer crushed his elegant, beautiful armor.  
       Brandon looks at her with pity.  
       On the other side of the room, her father is a phantom, barely visible in the light of the window. He doesn't say anything either, just looks at her in disappointment and that cuts almost worse than anything Bran has said in the last few hours.  
       Now that she herself is a mother, she wonder what it must had felt like, for him. To burn alive for his daughter's sins. To see her throw everything he ever gave her away.  
       She can't bear to think about it much.  
      Slender fingers are running like sweat down her face, and she doesn't need to look up to see who they belong to, but she does anyway, because even after all this, he still smells like roses and like always, it tricks her into feeling safe.  
     He is just as beautiful in death as he was in life, and his eyes are dark, neverending pools of indigo. Tonight, they shine like rubies, betraying the dragonfire within and reflecting the blood running down his face. He has gentle eyes, she remembers thinking. Somehow, he is glittering in the moonlight just as starkly as on the day she married him.  
      His face is as blank as the snowy plains and she knows that he is here to keep her company while she's waiting for the battle outside to die down. She should be glad to have a friend with her, even if it makes her want to weep.  
      A cry sounds outside and ser Arthur Dayne joins the ghosts haunting her, with that stupid smile still on his face. Suddenly, he doesn't look like Brandon anymore, because she knows Bran will never smile at her again. She hates it.  
     »Your brother is almost here.« He says and all Lyanna can do is pray. The ghosts of Elia Martell and her children aren't present physically but she feels them in the room anyway, edging closer and closer with each shout and sound coming out of the window.  
      Its not fair, she thinks. Those should be Rhaegar's ghosts, not hers. She didn't kill Elia, or smother the life out her babies.  
     Looking at Rhaegar's sad smile now, she might as well had. It's not fair, she knows. She didn't steal him from Elia no more than he stole her from Robert, but in the dying light, it was hard to tell where Rhaegar's mistakes ended, and hers began. It seemed that they have been forever tied together by the blood they spilled. Perhaps that's why he was here, to remind her that she is just as guilty, that her story in the history books is going to be a villain's one, just like his.  
      It's better not to dwell on it.  
      Silence rings through the room and it takes her a moment to realise what that means. Then, the footsteps sound, coming closer and closer with urgency that screams Ned.  
      Even her unnamed child is silent, perhaps sensing the doom closing on him. She can only hope Ned will have enough mercy to wait until her regret finally chokes the life out of her before… Before.  
     The doors open, and Ned is there, more solid than a ghost but just as pale. His eyes widen as he sees her but she is far too tired to do anything but smile. She hopes he won't think too badly of her.  
      He moves closer to her, kneels next to her bed, whispering words she cannot follow. He doesn't even notice the wet nurse, or the child in her arms, and she dares to hope.  
    They are alone now. The weight of Brandon sitting at her feet turned into a box. She remembers putting it there with clarity. It will guide Ned down her story after she is gone. Her father's shadow vanished into smoke and Rhaegar's slender, gentle fingers turned into cold sweat running down her burning forehead.  
     She understands now, they were never there. Or maybe they were, but just as visitors, devoid of form and devoid of choice.  
     And soon, she'll be just like them, but for now, she has a choice. It might be too late for her, too late for forgivness, but it doesn't have to be for the baby.  
     And so, her last words aren't of forgiveness she knows she doesn't deserve. She doesn't ask of his wife, or his own baby son.  
     Instead, she extracts a promise that her poor brother swears too far to easily.  
    It funny how concerned she was just moments, weeks, ago, but now the single reassurance that her child will live makes her light as a feather, making her feel like a child again. Before Robert, before Rhaegar, before the war.  
    She feels purified at that moment, and when she closes her eyes, she doesn't beg for forgivness. She simply goes to sleep, and all her worries sink into the darkness with her.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any grammatical mistakes made, this was written fairy quickly and English is not my native language. In other words, I suck.  
> I believe in individual's interpretation, but there are some things in the story that I feel like I haven't made clear enough and would like to point out.  
> 1) This was supposed to be a character study of sorts, into Lyanna's mindset. She's a complicated character and people often assume that just because she's a Stark, she's going to be morally pure, which I don't really agree with. She's definitely not a bad person, and she showcased a strong sense of morals, but she's also not naive. She saw through Robert all along, and I don't think she wouldn't see through Rhaegar, but I think at at very least, she could feel sort of companionship with him, even if she was never interested in him romantically. In this, she sees him more like a brother, though she doesn't put it in words, but it's hinted when he shows up with her family. He's not into her, she's not into him, but she wouldn't run off with him if she didn't at least like him platonically. It's kind of an off screen thing in the story, but they made a deal. He helps her escape her marriage, she gives him the child he needs for the prophecy.  
> 2)Speaking of which, in this interpretation, Rhaegar isn't really that into it. It's a coping mechanism for him, and a way to feel like he has some control over his life. Given how he's closer in age with his mother (she was 13 when she had him, which, gross) than with Daenerys, I think he'd have a fairy good relationship with her. Better than with Aerys anyways, and since Aerys was horrible to her and it's universal knowledge that she only married him bc "The prince that was promised", Rhaegar would be kind of predisposed to buy into that whole thing, purely because he couldn't bear his mother suffering like that for nothing. He's kinda highkey lying to himself and he knows it. Plus, since he conveniently decided that Aegon is the PtwP instead of himself like he believed before, before running away, he only needs to give him one more sibling and then he's off the hook, and the fate of the world is no longer his business. I don't want to say that he is running from responsibility exactly, but he is kind of tired of being the last hope for his house and the world so if someone else can do the job, then suddenly him being there and putting up with all that isn't necessary anymore.  
> 3) In some things, he and Lyanna would get along because they both lack control over their lives, though Rhaegar still has more of it than she does but he mopes twice as hard to make up for it. I feel like there's too many interpretations where they either love or hate each other, and I wanted to do a version with a bit of a middle ground. They are both flawed people, and self aware enough not to be total hypocrites.  
> 4) Lyanna in this is also kind of bottling stuff up and ignoring it because she subconsciously knows she couldn't deal with it. It's a part of the whole Middle Ages Mental Health package.  
> Her guilt manifests in her hallucinations, with Brandon being the focal point because she was the closest to him, her father being silent because that's more terrifying to her than him being angry, and Rhaegar being there more like a physical representation of her guilt of going with him. Arthur is just a reminder that even at that moment her friends were dying outside for her and that she's going to have to face her guilt by facing Ned  
> 5)Ned is too sweet for this world and would never hurt Jon, but she doesn't know that. She also probably doesn't know that he won't tell everyone the truth about what happened, that's why she's expecting to go in the history books as a villain when in truth, she's known as a victim.  
> 6)A lot of stuff is more Rhaegar's fault than hers but she feels guilty anyway because she's connected to the whole mess.  
> And that's it. This was mostly just me playing with the characters trying to see if writing a longer fic with them is worth it.  
> Oh and lastly, it kind of irks me how everyone assumes that Rhaegar was deadset on having a girl, when it's been stated that the Valyrian word for Prince and Princess are the same, and gender is never important with dragons. Just because Aegon and his sisters happened to be in a female-male-female combo it doesn't mean it needs to be like that. If the goal is to fry some ice zombies, it really doesn't matter what chromosomes the people doing the frying have.  
> Lyanna doesn't buy into it but she also comes to know him well enough to know why he's so into it, so she lets him believe what he wants. She also doesn't agree with all his actions but feels like she has no stand to speak about it because of her internalized guilt.  
> Comments are always appreciated, as is criticism :)


End file.
